Red Dust: Far Cry Australia
by JJZ-109
Summary: Welcome to Kunarra; a desolate region in the wilds of Northwest Australia that has slipped right under the nose of the government, and is ruled by a sociopathic, racist tyrant Colonial self-proclaimed governor who has installed a brutal regime over the local Indigenous. When young graduate Charlotte 'Charlie' Black is kidnapped, both hers and the Kunarran world are about to change.
1. Meet Solomon Rogers

**So by far the most requested location for a 'Far Cry 5' is Australia. So here we are people, I'm writing it. A full blown full length adventure story set in a fictional Northwest Australian wilderness known as 'KUNARRA' reigned over by a deranged, sociopathic, historically obsessed racist tyrant who operates his business without the knowledge of the government, due to the remoteness of his location. I won't reveal much more, I want this story to speak for itself. With help from my loving girlfriend, this world can now exist. Note: This is almost a completely original story, but it does tie in and have strong links to the Far Cry universe which you'll see later. So in a sense, this can be considered a 'Far Cry 5'.**

 **Cheers: JJZ-109**

* * *

 **RED DUST**

 **CHAPTER 1**

 **MEET SOLOMON 'RED' ROGERS**

Australia. What a country people think it is. Those that have never been there, and dare only to venture within the realms of their own region have a distorted, romanticized view of what the country is. A version of the African savannah, perhaps? Except devoid of large carnivores and filled with poisonous little critters instead. A Frontier untouched by man, so they think. Where there are Kangaroos everywhere that locals can ride, and big burly tanned Caucasian men in cowboy hats with big knives. It is an understandable assumption based on non-Australian Western media, but far from the truth. However foreigners are not the only ones to have a skewed definition of Australia, those that live within it and call it their home live in a similar illusion. They believe their country is a paradise, where everything is relaxed, easy, slow paced and everyone is more or less safe within their homes - and that they should be proud to call their country home. This is even further from the truth than the Frontier dream. The Australian dream is a comforting lie told to protect those that live within it.

Australia is not safe, and no, not in the sense that the little critters in your mailbox will crawl out from their webs and kill you when you turn your back. It is a haven. And the people have nothing to be proud of, or no reason to call their country their own. The enormous island nation is stolen property, and founded on bloodshed. Contrary to popular belief the British did not enter Australia, shake hands with the natives and shoo them away to build a great First World that the Indigenous could enter at a later date - the Aborigine Australians were chased off their homeland with rifles carried by British Redcoats, and if they resisted - they were shot. It was a simple, devastating equation for them. Since 1788 they had learned not to provoke such responses, instead of ways to encourage real change to the Western Empire.

Nonetheless the Australian dream prevailed, with the country becoming an economically steady platform in the Asia Pacific. People live on ridiculously high incomes, behave like rednecks, and drive to work to earn their bread like most other Anglophone countries.

The family life is simple - there's the father who earns the majority of the family money doing whatever simplistic job he is capable of that somehow relates to mining. His job is to be the bedrock of the family and operate the barbecue while simultaneously screaming at his football team on TV.

Then there is the mother, a seemingly heartless woman who also works for money that really goes to nobody but herself, and because of the un-instigated paranoia of sexism is over-desperate to assert herself in any situation she might come across. She'll cook the family unsatisfying meals on anything but a barbecue.

Then there are sons; those that fall far short of academic expectations and are also far too determined to assert their independence from their family at any given time. They often waste their schooling getting 'hammered' at parties and devoting what other time they have to becoming better at sports - an integral part of Australian culture that practically saves them from the misery they deserve and instead places them among the most esteemed in society as they progress from teenage lout, to Australian Rules Football prospect and then superstar.

And then there are the daughters. They're probably more prized children than sons, and always cast the shadow over them. Due to the academic system they are always working harder and better to achieve 'A's on their grade report and get into a good University, to get a good job, be respectable and provide an ideal citizen in the family. Fathers like to try and push them to this and often protect them more so than necessary. Because they're genuinely protective and care? No, daughters are just a financial drain. It's about what's in it for the parents, oh and because they saw that parenting style on some American TV show of course.

And so leaving their parents behind and heading off into the Australian illusion, the budding sports star and the Missy goody-two shoes dare venture into their own country.

Western Australia is an enormous state, it is hot, and it is desolate - with 90% of its population cornered into one city in the south of it. However its economy runs on the remote mining in its far north, with of course the mining reigning over the Indigenous community. So sometimes, a corporation who sponsors a huge AFL team will send a player up there to keep the locals content, by running football camps and having a community program with the football-crazed Indigenous. And of course the mines always need new engineers, people who generally attain high grades in school.

It did seem quite perfect for the brother and sister to attend a little expedition up in the far north together, along with another familiar face.

But that was where the illusion ended.

The daughter slowly came to, letting out an instinctive whimper as she did so, still yet unable to open her eyes. How her head hurt, throbbing at the back where something had hit her unexpectedly, and how her lip and jaw stung - from a fall perhaps? It seemed likely given she was knocked out cold.

 _Argh my lip..._ She thought to herself and made to dab it with her finger, but instantly found she was unable to. She was unable to move that entire arm very far as a matter of fact...Wait, make that both. Her wrists were stuck together painfully behind her back, by something thin and painfully tight.

"Ow what..." The daughter mumbled to herself and was now worried enough to open her eyes.

She had been moved, and wherever she was it wasn't awfully bright, the walls were made of rusting out corrugated iron, with some parts seemingly made from grey asbestos. The thin, sharp metal was peeling and curving out menacingly around the edges, and through the gaps that corrosion made, the harshly bright sunlight crept through, illuminating the entire small space with its golden glow. How did she get in here? Had she been kidnapped? It seemed possible given the countless corny locally produced horror movies there were about people getting kidnapped in the Outback.

She painfully turned her head, and what she saw perpendicular to her position instilled waves of panic as her worst fears were confirmed. It was a man, one of those from her bus trip, sitting on a chair with his hands tied behind it and a cloth gag restraining his mouth. She didn't even take interest in the fact she wasn't gagged, it was just all about the fact she'd finally, through her pain realized that she was also tied up, and on a wooden chair too.

What the hell was happening? That was it for her; it was a mistake to ever take the bus out here.

"What, no!" She breathed out desperately and tried to kick her also restrained feet.

"What's going on - HEY!" The daughter whined and began to feel her eyes swell with tears.

This couldn't be happening to her.

Taking another glance at the tied up man staring at her and shaking his head in response to her whining, she cried out again.

"Help me!" She yelled out to nobody in particular at the loudest her aching body could allow.

"LEMME GO! Hey! H-help us..." She cried out, now realizing the man didn't deserve to be there either.

"Let us go...l-let us go..." Her cries out were soon reduced to sobs, and she looked straight down at her lap.

"I wanna go home...please..." She just sat there sobbing in her chair, confused and distraught.

"I wanna go home...I don't deserve this...please...I wanna go home," She continued to whimper to herself.

As an almost instant reply, the rusting door to the shack swung open suddenly - making her jump back a little in fright. She wasn't sure to feel even more afraid or relieved that somebody had heard her at this stage. The sunlight poured in, forcing her to squint.

All she could see were three dark silhouettes stepping inside, men by the looks of it. The one in the center seemed to have some odd headwear judging by the outline of his black form against the sun.

Then the door shut behind them, and that was when the daughter knew to feel afraid.

They looked like makeshift soldiers, guerrillas maybe. Well only two of them at least. Standing between the two Viet-Cong-esque thugs was someone...or something, rather, that seemed to stop the waterworks flooding on her face, and induce an odd kind of quivering in her body.

Unlike the other two, who looked to be of Southeast Asian origin the one in the middle was a white Caucasian. And also unlike the other two, who wore dirty, dusty and minimal guerrilla like attire, mainly worn out cargo pants, singlets (or shirtless in one of their cases) with an abundance of supply pouches, and caps...this man was phenomenally dressed.

It wasn't just what looked like an elaborate uniform; it was as detailed as a costume. Other than his desert-camouflaged combat trousers the man wore a breathtaking scarlet jacket that appeared to be from an era long before, adorned with pristine white trimming, brass buttons on a blue strip, and another expensive looking white leather sash across the waistline and coming down from his shoulder.

The daughter slowly followed his appearance from his boots upward. The magnificent coat soon dawned on her - he was a British soldier? Did British troops still use jackets like that? She'd only seen them use that kind of dress in movies, set in either the pirate era or American Revolution; colonial times.

She continued her upwards gaze and finally saw his face, and for some reason felt like wriggling back. His stunning red coat was accompanied by one of those old colonial hats also from those movies, of which she could not remember the name. It was a large, wide brimmed black hat that folded up on three sides. Oh that was what it was called. A tricorner.

He also wore dark tinted aviator sunglasses, which he elegantly lowered as he slowly bent down over the daughter.

Her lower jaw trembled in anxiety as his face came within inches of hers.

" _Your_ home?" He released his first words to her in a cool, yet strongly imposing English accent that matched his attire.

The daughter nodded fearfully, with tears staining her cheeks.

Within a second her head had been beat face her side, her cheek stinging under the force of the slap. It had all happened too fast, but how her cheek was burning from it, still tingling under the impact.

"You'd be nothing without us convict...'your' home my bloody foot. You have no home," The man raised his eyebrows at her as she managed to turn her head back around to face him.

He looked so casual, as if disciplining a child normally. That was the manner in which he moved, as if he was above her. And as of now, he was.

"Huh..." The daughter groaned out lowly, unsure of exactly what to think.

"Oh, aren't you aware of your proud history?" The red-coated man asked rhetorically, stepping back a little and holding up his hands enthusiastically.

"J-jesus...w-what do you want with me?" The daughter shuddered out the question.

The red-coated man turned to his side and placed his hands behind his back, breaking into a nonchalant pace before her.

"You people...you _animals_ were sent here as prisoners of the Empire. Criminals. You lot...the aborigines...you might as well all be the same. All under the boot of control. Meant for nothing more than to live in chains. That was always how it was and how it ever shall be. You are _nothing_."

She felt herself shrink inside at the severity of that insult, and the pure fact he said that as a follow up to her question. Was that just it? Did he just see himself as a superior being to her and entitle himself to her like that? Was she to be raped because she was...who she was? A million paranoid questions raced through her mind as he lectured her. Whatever his motive was, he did certainly act like he has assumed dominance over her. And whether it was just her mother's stupid personality coming through in her, or her own anxiety brewing over at the severity of her situation the words escaped her lips as she watched him.

"You're crazy..." She whispered under her breath, and flinched at the impending consequence.

But there was none, the man had just drawn an AUS passport from his coat pocket and turned it open curiously.

"Charlotte...Audrey...Black." The daughter's eyes lit up as she heard him say it.

Charlotte Black was her name, though the first name 'Charlotte' was only ever reserved for times when she landed herself in trouble with her parents, since she never really seemed to with teachers and friends being the person she was. Charlie had been the nickname that had stuck to her since she was a toddler, and it was always a shock to hear somebody say her full name.

 _Especially_ the apparent leader of two soldiers who dressed like an 18th century Colonialist and had kidnapped and abused her and another person. A criminal.

"You are quite a point of interest..." The red-coated leader continued, reading through her passport along with other stolen documents.

"Give that back..." Charlie sniffled and looked at her passport.

The man in the red coat's head snapped up to face her instantly. Stepping forward again, he raised his arm across her, and delivered another pounding backhand.

"Ah!" Charlie winced and spat the blood that had pooled from her cut lip.

"Not showing respect to those who deserve it...no manners...tsk tsk." The man shook his tricorner-adorned head and went back to reading his papers, lowering his sunglasses again.

Charlie, fearing another strike, decided to remain silent for a while. She already hurt and didn't know if she could take much more, especially from such a large and powerful man such as him.

"Anyway, before I was so uncivilly interrupted..." The man shot a quick glance at Charlie before looking at the stolen papers again.

"You are interesting in what skills you may offer...normally a beauty such as yourself would be ideal for use as a little horizontal refreshment for the troops and then use as a decoration...however..." His voice trailed off and he looked Charlie up and down again.

Charlie reviled at his statement, her lips curling in disgust. Despite his gentlemanly accent and manner of speaking the bastard was far from it, she was so disgusted and beyond frightened by his implication.

"A UWA degree in the school of engineering...mining engineering. Impressive to say the minimum." The red-coated man nodded.

 _That means I won't die, right?_ she thought to herself.

"You could be of some use to us...hmm..." The man stroked his chin and thought to himself.

Charlie finally broke her silence. "Who's 'us'?"

She immediately came to regret that decision.

The man drew a dagger clipped onto his belt like lightning and swung it at her neck before she even had time to flinch. But instead of the slash he stopped at the last split second and looked into her eyes.

In full and entire eye contact, he smiled a little, tracing the tip of the blade from her neck down to the top of her chest.

"Are you fucking stupid?" His cool, and very smooth English voice suddenly became more hoarse.

He whacked the bottom of the hilt down on the top of her skull hard. Not hard enough to cause damage but hard enough to inflict silencing pain on her. Charlie knew he was capable of much more than what he was doing to her. And that was another thing that chilled her - he was noticeably holding back, as if he was perfectly experienced in _exactly_ how to hurt people at his own pace.

"It is not your place nor a fucking right to ask me things like that!" The red-coated man's face shriveled up in disgust at her.

Charlie shunned back a little in her seat. "Okay..."

"Shh!" The man suddenly swooped in close and pressed a finger on her lips.

He moved his face in close to hers; so close he was within 'kissing' distance of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered to herself, as he grinned at the fear he was instilling.

"Now." He gently placed her hands on Charlie's shoulders. "Will you donate your abilities to us?"

Charlie didn't dare open her mouth or her eyes. Almost every interaction she had tried to make with him so far resulted in her being physically punished in some way, and she was on breaking point. Just...no more...

The man was folding his arms waiting for a reply, but he never got one so after a moment he looked down and chuckled to himself quietly.

"So I observe you practice reverse psychology..." He just stood before her, not looking at her, but looking up and all around him frustratedly.

"When you must shut up...you speak." His voice became hoarse like it was when he snapped before.

"And when you must speak...you shut up." The red-coated man sighed to himself.

Charlie had almost relaxed a little before the explosion of passion that followed. She felt herself being hurled back on her chair, not punched this time thankfully, but shoved back and the sickly feeling of falling back on a chair plagued her bowels.

" _DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING JOKE TO YOU?"_

Charlie's head clanged into the corrugated iron and she cried out in pain yet again as the red-coated man monstered over her. Looking to her side, she considered herself lucky that she did not land on the curling sharper edges of the eroding metallic walls.

"Is there something wrong with the way I'm addressing you, animal?" The Red coated man asked, removing his sunglasses to look at her.

"No..." Charlie shook her head and held back impending tears again.

The man took a step back and stretched out his arms.

"Well don't you fucking dare insult my intelligence by acting stupid, I've seen your paperwork. Is it something about me? Hmm? Is it my clothes, my civility, my mannerisms? Am I not worthy of _your_ respect?" The man snarled at her, in his increasingly hoarse accent.

The accompanying gestures made him appear like some Shakespearean tragic character. Following his rant, he broke into another grin and chucked a little, shaking his head.

"N-n-no it's not..." Charlie trembled.

The man stepped away from her casually and turned his back.

"The countless people I've heard that from..." He thought aloud. "Many of whom are dead now, by the way..."

Charlie began to pant in terror. This man was a murderer.

"They were all like you, same pathetic look on their miserable faces." He continued, on another lecture.

Meanwhile Charlie had practically given up. She let herself slump back against the wall now that she was free of the chair, and something hot and sharp pierced her hand. She gasped but didn't dare cry out in pain, in fear of her captor. It was one of those sharp, corroding edges of the iron fencing and damn it had cut her good. It had slid up and made a reasonable indentation in her binding zip tie too, as a matter of fact.

That was when Charlie knew, she didn't have to die or live as someone's bitch. She had one more option blessed to her by nature. With the man's back turned, she slowly began rubbing her wrists against the gap between the floor and wall behind her.

Meanwhile the man fiddled with his knife, it was an intricately decorated weapon, double edged and with a decorative trigger underneath the cross-guard - making it a pistol dagger; a weapon from long ago.

"But of course..." The red-coated man turned back around, spinning the pistol-dagger on his thumb.

"You're different. I know you are. It's that look in those Emerald eyes, I can feel it...You're going to be something special to us. Especially with your credentials..." The right side of his lips flickered upwards a little, to form a half smile.

Charlie just kept staring at him.

"Now would you be willing to work with true power, and stand above the _creatures_ you are part of?" The man offered, again only expecting one answer.

Charlie just internally prayed he hadn't seen what she was doing with her hands, and gave a weak nod; playing along.

"Okay..."

"Really?" The man asked, giving her cheek a light tap.

"Yes, really..."

The man's fierce, intimidating expression suddenly vanished. In its place was etched a crazily overjoyed one.

"EXCELLENT!"

"Excellent my dear..." He exclaimed and suddenly gripped her chin.

Pulling her forward, he suddenly planted a forceful and disgustingly wet kiss on her lips. "Ah."

Charlie wiggled her jaw free and cringed, curling her lips up in pure disgust.

"This is cause for celebration!" The red-coated man proclaimed and suddenly pointed his dagger at the tied up man seated adjacent Charlie.

 _BANG!_

The man's chair lurched back violently and blood sprayed onto the dark wall, as smoking started steaming from the barrel of the man's pistol-knife.

"Fuck!" Charlie cried out in raw shock. A person had just been murdered before her eyes. She wasn't ready for this!

"That's the spirit! Oh look at that crimson it matches my coat perfectly, what do you think Carlo?" Before his assistant soldier could even answer him he spun to look at Charlie.

"And watch your mouth, whore. Don't ruin your own party."

Charlie had squeezed her eyes shut and the tears had started again regardless. She had just watched someone be killed before her, and so...casually. Like it was meant to be funny. She just whimpered and kept rubbing her zip-tie binding against the corroded iron edge, hoping for it to break.

But suddenly she was yanked to her feet, away from it.

"You and I m'dear, are going to mine a fortune!"

* * *

 **So there we are, our heroine and villain introduced. And yes, I made the lead female, a first for the series. Hope you guys are intrigued and want to see more, make sure to drop a review/fave/sub and all that good shit. By the way I know there might be offensive content in this. If you are anything that ends in "ist" (Racist, feminist, misandrist blah blah) I don't wanna hear it, really. If you got a gripe with my writing though the contrstuctive feedback would be appreciated to make this more enjoyable for everyone.**

 **To be continued soon...**

 **This has been JJZ-109, and as always, have a nice day.**


	2. Meet Charlie Black

**Aaaaand we're back for Part 2. Sorry I'm taking so long but I'm EXTREMELY busy at the moment and updates will be longer than what I normally do. Anyway it was great to get all the positive feedback for chapter one :D Thank yas all and keep it coming. Great feedback for me and my second in command (The gf hehe) Anyway I'll respond to feedback on here unless I've already PM'd.**

 **Shadow Walker of fire: Thanks, appreciate it.**

 **The Prime Writer: ...whoa. You either really know your shit or Wikipedia has stuff I can't find hahaha, anyway cheers for all that m8. And to answer some of your questions, yes some of those characters will be introduced. 2/3 of them to exact. won't spoil more.**

 **Cheers: JJZ-109**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

 **MEET CHARLOTTE 'CHARLIE' A. BLACK**

To mine a fortune? There was no chance this psycho could be a miner, Charlie thought to herself at speed. As far as she was concerned mining, the cash riddled business she was aiming for - was a clean business. Clean in terms of legitimacy of course, not environmental impact. She had come this far to be an Intern for Engineering Support for Rio Tinto, in their Pilbara mines. However here she was being beaten and bullied by some Brit who dressed (for the most part, with the exception of his pants, boots and glasses) like a psychotic soldier from the 18th century.

A million questions raced through Charlie's mind as she was released by the Redcoated man, and plopped back on her backside against the wall right where she just was.

 _Oh thank goodness..._ Charlie thought as she recognized her spot and moved her hands up to brush against the painfully sharp corroded iron, slowly sawing away at her zip tie.

In the meantime the Redcoated man inspected the body of the person he had murdered, nonchalantly kicking his corpse into a more 'neat' location. It didn't take him long to become frustrated at the weight of the man and order his two guards to attempt it instead.

They were distracted.

Charlie seized the opportunity, gritting her teeth and rubbing the zip tie against the sharp edge more and more, feeling the plastic 'sawdust' sprinkle her wrists and the tie starting to release it's painful clasp upon her.

She just needed to get out of here. Though she had no idea where she was, anywhere but here with these monsters was a safe bet.

 _Tck!_ Like shackles falling from a slave Charlie felt and heard her wrist binding zip tie finally snap. She breathed out a heavy exhale of relief and looked down, pondering her next move. What now? Run for it? Wait and pretend she never tried to escape then escape at a better time?

Her thoughts were cut off swiftly.

"By the way..." The suave British voice suddenly said, much closer to her than he just was.

An open hand extended out in front of her.

"My name is Rogers. Governor Solomon Rogers. I run this area and all involved business," He continued, Charlie staring at his hand feebly, before looking upwards into his shaded yet powerful gaze.

"Surely you wouldn't do a man disrespect by refusing his hand?" Rogers commented on her non-movement.

For a moment Charlie forgot everything else. Her questions, her escape ideas, her dignity even. She just didn't want to be struck by him another time. She knew he was holding back, and capable of so much more than he had already done to her.

She extend her liberated hand out and shook the Rogers' large one firmly.

"Ah, good handshake. It can tell a lot about a person," Rogers complimented, his eyes narrowing into hers.

It was then she realized her error yet again.

Rogers suddenly grasped her hand like a vice grip, and pulled her up close by it - making her wince out in pain.

"And equally as much...about a _fucking deceitful animal!_ " Rogers screamed out the last three words in a fury.

Suddenly Charlie felt her neck begin to contract and ache in an uncontrollable manner. She hadn't even time to see Rogers grab it and squeeze. Aside from the tremendous pain, she felt incredibly stupid somehow, even though it was just this horrific man's fault. She had walked right into that trick as if he'd known all along what she was doing.

Struggling to stop her eyes from rolling back in her head Charlie thought, he knew what she was trying to do know. And what was going to happen to her if she didn't follow through? She'd either end up dead, or alive and escaped of course. Both of those options seemed to appeal to her more than sitting here being semi-strangled as punishment for trying to free herself.

She looked into Rogers' eyes, with drops of tears running down from hers still. They just looked full of pleasure and normality - as if this kind of doing was just a regular pastime for him.

He clearly expected her not to fight back.

Or do what she planned to do next.

With all the force she could muster up she suddenly jerked her head back and twisted it sharply around and down, in a movement pattern a choking hand could not follow. For a split second she was free of Rogers, and in that split second she scuttled back against the dark corrugated iron wall of the shack, her body smacking against it with a loud _clang_.

Then again, as with every action she had committed since painfully waking up - she found herself to regret it.

Facing her were two AK-47 barrels, belonging to each of the guarding soldiers who had reacted like jackrabbits to the sudden burst of free movement from her. Rogers' hands instinctively gripped both and forced them down, with him growling like some dominant ape who now faced a threat.

His expression was simmering with rage but this time Charlie had learnt her error from last time. Do not sit and wait to be punished while you are free.

Extending a leg out over the dirt floor she swept up a blanketing cloud of dust their direction, before turning and desperately pushing on the weak corroding wall behind her.

 _Come on...come on! Break!_ She urged it mentally but the piece of shit simply refused to.

 _ **RATATATATANG!**_

Alarmed by her move, and in ignorance of their leader's instructions the soldiers fired their assault rifles, with two flickering muzzle flashes lighting up in the mini dust cloud.

Charlie had never heard anything quite like it. It was so...loud. She had only ever heard a gun fire once before, and that was outdoors on a relative's farm. And that had been only a single shot. This however, was shot after shot after shot - with the deafening racket trapped inside a small structure. The noise was horrific.

When the noise ceased, she finally managed to open her eyes and look up. Warm light now poured in through dozens of holes in the thin metal wall, illuminating the swirls of dust going through them.

With a groan, the bullet-riddled shack wall collapsed.

 _Ah!_ Was the only enthusiastic noise Charlie could muster up even in her mind, and sprung up, despite her body throbbing in protest.

Light now engulfed her body. Pure, shining and damn _hot_ sunlight that beat down on her skin from the heavens. She couldn't even look up, her eyes now having adjusted to the dim interior of the opened shack.

She could not even see where she was going the new light was so blinding, but she needed no second invitation to dart straight out the new gap created by the fallen wall. Keeping her head low, she ran for her life as her three captors stayed in confusion behind her. She could hear the enraged shouts of the leader at his own men, followed up by - _bang_.

The sun was too bright for her to even look ahead as she ran, her eyes were kept pointing out the ground where all she could see was dust.

Red dust.

Blinking rapidly she finally managed to raise her vision to look ahead.

Where the hell was she? At least she was still in Australia despite being kidnapped, as implied by the rusty red soil and the Outback forests ahead of her. But perhaps that wasn't much better, as Australia was big enough she might as well be hidden in another country. It could be like finding a needle in a haystack.

And also, where were her companions? Where was Tristan? Where was her brother Hayden? She had to quickly suppress the thoughts as she knew her time was limited. She had taken a gamble trying to escape and she'd better give her all to follow through now.

The alternative...scared her.

Charlie looked up and saw a stationary vehicle on a dirt trail, stained by the red dust and labelled with an insignia on the door which read 'KCA'. She didn't bother to think about what that meant. The engine was still running and that was what mattered. It must have been the one the three murderers (two now) had taken.

She vaulted straight over the door and into the vehicle, wasting no time in clicking the hand break off and slamming the stick into 'Drive'.

 _Vrrmm!_ The engine roared in response and the utility vehicle lurched forward, pressing Charlie's back against the seat. As she gunned the car away, she managed to aim a glance into the rear view mirror, at the shack.

Stepping out of the gap was Rogers, staring straight at her.

Nonchalantly, he just smiled warmly.

She shook his gaze off and kept speeding away until the shack was no longer visible in her mirror. Before she even knew it she was off desert space and into thick bushland, lined with towering Eucalyptus trees and dense dry scrub. Branches and bushes whacked against the sides of the car on the narrow trail, making her instinctively flinch. If this was her dad's car she'd be dead.

Sighing, Charlie thought to herself. What now? Wait till she was in phone reception and call cops? Wait no, her phone was gone. She'd have to somehow find a settlement.

Her thought was rapidly interrupted, as two Jeep Wranglers suddenly burst out from the bushes behind her and started closing fast.

 _Ah what!_

She could see them in her wing mirrors and frankly had never been more terrified, one of them had a mounted machine gun on its roof, and both were painted in paramilitary color schemes. These were no ordinary criminals chasing her. More like...an army.

 _RADADANG_

A burst of .50 cal fire smashed through her windshield, making her scream out in shock and duck her head, struggling to keep her eyes on the road.

She stamped on the accelerator even harder, veering off the main trail and onto an even tighter one, perhaps not even intended to cars.

Her turn was so sharp and fast the car nearly tipped onto its side.

She was now just blasting her way through the outback, tearing up any bushes or plants that might be in her way. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she drove, foot to the floor and weaving in between the huge gums.

The two jeeps did not give up chase, following intently and still firing off many inaccurate bursts into the scrub around her. The noise was enough to scar her though.

Charlie could see the native creatures now, Kangaroos getting up from their grazing and bounding away in fear of the terrible noises approaching them. She had gunned her car right in between two of them.

Looking in the mirror, Charlie could see that the Jeeps had lost a little ground on her. And in even better news, it appeared there was a clearing ahead. Light was pouring through trees dead ahead of her.

Blue sky appearing in the cracks between them, rather than red dirt. That was when Charlie knew to slow down.

Her car burst out of the trees, and instantly she slammed her handbrake down all the way, her tires screeching in protest as the car streamed towards the edge of the cliff.

Finally it stopped, parallel to the huge slanted drop to her side.

 _Wew..._ Charlie breathed out and looked down out of her window. It was a long drop alright, although not vertical. The rusty red cliff-face went down on a medium gradient before stopping at an abrupt edge, leading to another, shorter - although now vertical drop down to a train track. There was a long locomotive chugging through it.

Her pursuers had not been as wary as she had been. The first jeep, the armed one, blasted through the tree line and slammed on its brakes, but was moving far too fast and shot through the make-shift guard rail with a horrific _clang_.

Charlie watched in horror as the Jeep began to roll down the cliff-face with the people still inside it.

But her head was snapped back up again, as the second arrived.

She had not even time to react as the whole vehicle seemingly _dived_ out of the bushland and blasted straight into her car, nose first.

"AH!" She cried out in pain as the car's airbags slammed into her face. It had been a few minutes since she was last hit in the face by anything.

"Oh no no no!" Charlie whined out as she felt her car's rear start to slide down off the unguarded cliff face, following the one that had just struck her.

As the last of her four wheels went over, Charlie found herself going down sideways.

 _NO NO don't roll!_ Charlie used all her strength to turn the wheel its full rotation and turn it so the front of the car went down first.

The fall down was quick but brutal, the car bumping and bucking her around on the inside as if it was a bull at a Wild West Rodeo. Meanwhile the car going with her had rolled down its side and become a twisted and crumpled heap of metal, now smoking from its front.

 _CRASH!_ The crumpled jeep smacked into the remains of the first one, and less than a second later, Charlie's car struck the carnage head on.

Charlie's head slammed into her steering wheel and for a moment everything seemed to not move at all. She was on the fringe of consciousness and her battered head would not stop thinking about just flopping there and giving up. Her head pounded and she felt completely dizzy.

"Uhh..." Charlie groaned and gingerly opened the door to the car.

She just flopped straight out like a rag doll, her cheek scraping against the hard rock. It was then she realized how much her arm hurt, now that the shock of the crash had worn off a little. It was throbbing damn bad, something was wrong with it.

She rolled onto her back and clutched it with her other hand, but instantly winced in pain. _Oww...fuck! Shit is this a break..._

Dizzily using the last remaining stores of her energy she stood up, holding her arm up across her front as if it were in a sling. She looked up and examined the remains of the three-car cliff face tumble.

She was lucky she was the last one down it. Nobody else had survived that.

Despite her ears still ringing in her head, way back from when the two soldiers fired their assault rifles, she could make out a faint crackling.

Fire.

Her car was on fire. She had seen enough movies and enough cop show videos to know what happened after that.

"Ugh!" She moaned out as she stumbled away, still holding her arm up in pain.

Then another sound broke out, this one far more damning than any impending explosion. It was rotors beating. A helicopter.

And it was flying far too low to be friendly from the sound of it.

Charlie had found herself at the edge of the next drop, the one that led down to the slow moving freight train below her. From the look of the train stretched on for well over a kilometer on either side, and it was moving quite slowly - its freight cars loaded to the brim with chunks of dusty iron ore and dirt.

It was at least a four meter drop from the ledge to the train. However, the sound of the helicopter was getting no quieter.

Turning her head, she just saw the tips of the rotors start to reveal themselves from above the tree line. This was it. She had two options. Die maybe or live...maybe. She made up her mind.

 _Charlie you crazy bitch..._

She threw herself off the ledge.

Meanwhile, the KCA helicopter pilot had just approached the scene of the crash and buzzed over it curiously. There was two cars on fire now and no traces of any survivors. However it did occur to him that one might have possibly gotten away.

Charlie had no time to recover from the impact of her jump. Thankfully, she landed in one of the dirt cars instead of the iron ore ones - making her jump far less painful. But her arm still throbbed out with each motion she made, as if trying to restrain her.

In the top corner of her eye she could see the dark form of the helicopter buzzing above like an enormous black wasp. It was beginning to move her way, and she trembled.

Lowering her eyes, she saw a bridge coming up to her rapidly though.

 _Thank you god, thank you thank you thank you._

She dove head first into the dirt and began clawing at it with her fingers, splashing it all over her body.

The enemy pilot hovered over the railroad, scanning each individual car on the iron ore train one by one, searching for a potential stowaway survivor. There appeared to be none.

He maneuvered it onto the other side of the bridge, and waited.

A rarer dirt car came out from under it, followed up by more iron ore - but that was it. Nobody was on it.

 _Ehh...she's dead._

He pulled on the joystick and banked the chopper away from the railroad, before turning on his transmitter to report on his progress.

" _Governor this is Raven One...she's dead. Over."_

Meanwhile Charlie heard the aircraft leave, and breathed out heavily. She would have cried in pure trauma and stress, but she was completely out of energy to do that.

Using her last morsel of energy she clawed some dirt off her face so she could breathe. "Gah..."

 _Where's Hayden?_

 _Where's Tristan?_

 _Who is that monster?_

 _Why do they all have army grade guns?_

 _Where is this train going?_

 _Where_ _ **am I?**_

Charlie soon began to run out of energy to think and worry too. She was completely and entirely spent, bruised, and beaten.

Her last conscious image that she could register with open eyes was the sun above her, in an entirely cloudless sky. It just sat there torturing her with its rays just as the red coated man had with his fist.

Closing her eyes, she finally let herself fade away from the nightmare she was living.

As she did that, the freight train passed a bullet-hole riddled sign.

 _ **WELCOME TO KUNARRA**_

* * *

 _Handbook Entries unlocked: (2)_

 _Name: Charlotte 'Charlie' Black_

 _Gender: Female_

 _Height: 169cm_

 _Weight: 58kg_

 _Date of Birth: 15/4/1990_

 _Place of Birth: Fremantle, Western Australia_

 _Hair Color: Brunette_

 _Achieved top marks in high school and graduated with honours from the University of Western Australia. From wealthy and sporting family. Accepted internship in North Western Mines in mid 2014. Sister of a young superstar footballing prospect 'Hayden Black'._

 _Name: Solomon 'Red' Rogers_

 _Gender: Male_

 _Height: 187cm_

 _Weight: 85kg_

 _Date of Birth: 11/10/1979_

 _Place of Birth: Lower Manchester, United Kingdom._

 _Hair Color: Auburn_

 _Grew up privileged due to large sum inherited from deceased parents, and received quality schooling where he graduated with honors in the field of History. Joined the British Army aged 20, and served in Afghanistan where he was charged of war crimes and extreme brutality. Discharged from military service but evaded imprisonment, worked as chief of operations on Rook Islands until appointment of Vaas Montenegro. Took over Australian branch of criminal operations late 2012. Known for lavish attire and extreme cruelty._

* * *

 **Aaaaand there we are. KUNARRA.**

 **Anyway it's been great to get all the attention this has, so don't forget to review, fave, sub and all that good shit. Also, since this is going to be a long and epic story, you can also keep up with Charlie's story from her personal account. Charlotte 'Charlie' Black is now on facebook, just drop her an add to talk to her ;)**

 **This has been JJZ-109, and as always...have a nice day.**


	3. Meet Mick Hunter

**Okaaaaay and fellas we are back in business! I'm so sorry about that, I know I gave the heads up but still it has been a while, I've been under terrible pressure from school (Which has finished now, if you want PM me your High 5s), had personal issues, and then it's looked up over Christmas and I finally got to spend a week with the love of my life who ya might have met before, that's right it's my lovely coauthor Chu10, she might've PMed review responses. Anyway onto story business now, thank you all for the positive feedback. Would love it along with constructive criticism if you have it, to continue. I'm sorry if I haven't replied reviews to last chapter months ago, I'll start doing that from now onwards.**

 **Cheers: JJZ-109**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2. MEET MICHAEL 'MICK' HUNTER**

 _Once a jolly swagman, camped down by a billabong_

 _Under the shade of a coolibah tree!_

 _And he sang as he watched, and waited till his billy boiled_

 _You'll come a Waltzin' Matilda with me._

 _Banjo Patterson, 1895_

The damned song wouldn't stop looping in Charlie's mind. On the bus ride before her world imploded, that was all that was being sung over, and over again. Courtesy of her brother Hayden of course, always needing to be the one to lighten things up. He'd sung it so many times, some just to annoy her on the ride, that it felt like it had been permanently burned into her skull.

However like Hayden's irritating voice cheering her from the stuffy insides of the old bus, this seemed to flush her pain. She was barely even conscious, and had completely forgotten where she was; all she knew was that it had been horrible, what led her there. The song was her only method of keeping that red-coated monster out of her mind. Even in the floating semi-conscious state of mind she lay dormant in, everything still throbbed.

Her arm, oh fuck her arm. Something was wrong with it, for sure. The pain, if not her inability to move any part of her body, rendered it completely useless.

And her head, she didn't want to even start thinking about it. How many times had she been struck there? Charlie had never been struck before in her life, bar some minor disciplinary slaps as a child. The red-coated monster, whatever his name was, had humbled her. For the first time in her sheltered, cozy life she tasted blood and fuck it was horrible, it tasted like how rusty coins smelt. And her entire face ached to move in the slightest, hence her lack of tears. If she cried it would hurt like hell.

The lyrics kept repeating to her as her body limply lay aching. It was like throwing a Band-Aid over bullet wound, but it was all she had as she floated through the sizzling northwestern expanse.

Slowly, her floating seemed to come to a stop. There was loud metallic groaning and screeching as she felt her progress begin to slow. Wait, progress? That's right, she was on a train covered in dirt. Now she started to remember it a little more than before, there was a car chase - or something, a cliff, and then she jumped away. As much as she tried to remember exactly what unfolded her mind simply refused to work properly, instead of thinking ahead it lingered on the fringes of consciousness simply replaying the lyrics to the song, or worse yet the red coated monster.

 ** _Once a jolly swagman..._**

The man stood above her in the darkness, arms folded. Her entire world was pitch black except for him, as if he was the only occupant of some kind of void set up to torment her. Worse yet, she was entirely limp, unable to move as he dragged her up to his eye level by her collar like a rag doll.

" _You're different, I know you are. I can see it in those emerald eyes...I can feel it. You_ are _special..."_ His words exited his mouth like toxins, hissing through the tiny gap of space between them.

All she could see of him now was the reflection of her own eyes in his sunglasses. Finally, she summed up the energy to move some part of her body: her mouth.

" _Go Away!"_ She shrieked at his figure, depleting her energy reserves yet again.

" _DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING JOKE TO YOU?"_ The words powered out of his mouth yet again, thundering and echoing like lightning in a canyon.

" _I don't want anything to do with you..."_ Charlie whimpered to him, feeling herself fall to the ground limply again.

Commandingly, he knelt at her side.

" _You might not consider me worthy of your beastly pathetic respect but trust me my dear, I am,"_ His lips slowly curled into a smile.

" _You are_ mine, _now."_ The smile grew to include his teeth.

" _NO!"_ Charlie all of a sudden felt herself ignore the depletion of energy that plagued her body. Some new kind of force was powering her.

With everything she had, she lashed out at his striking apparition.

But then, it vanished. The empty void. The red coated monster. Everything. She couldn't see a damn thing.

 _Oh fuck no I'm blind!_ Charlie panicked and flailed her arms out maniacally, before the throbbing pain halted her abruptly.

"Whoa!" Suddenly, she felt herself being forced back down onto the floor by human hands.

"Get away from me!" She wheezed and tried to force her way back up, but rather effortlessly she was forced back down flat onto the floor. _Wait, floor?_

Blinking her eyes open and closed rapidly her vision slowly returned to her one pixel at a time, one division of her vision to the next, narrowing the number of everything she saw before her down to the point where she could finally recognize the dark silhouette of a man. And then something black in the center of her vision. Despite the throbbing protest of her head she narrowed her eyes and could finally see somewhat normally. That black thing was a gun barrel, pointed right at her forehead. "If I were you, I'd settle down." A raspy, gruff voice recommended, before she was suddenly shoved back down flat again.

"Oh Jesus why...why..." Tears finally began to well again in her eyes.

NO. Not this again. She had escaped once, she could do it again. Maybe. She began to not care if she died anymore. Gingerly stretching, she tried to lurch up again - hoping to either make a break for it or get shot in the process.

Pointless. The rough hand slammed her back down again painfully.

"Not. Fuckin'. Likely." The voice growled at her.

"Why? Why...what the fuck do you people want...get away from me!" Charlie snapped and squirmed under his grip, to no avail.

"I'd watch what ya order me to do, missy. Without me you'd be in a mineral cart halfway to fuckin' China by now. Dead in simple English." The man's deep and gruff voice was heavily accented. Australian accented.

"Huh?" Charlie finally got the chance to look up at him in confusion.

The man was old, perhaps in mid sixties, judging by the wrinkles on his face. He had short grey hair, a square jawline studded with short stubble, and lightly tanned skin that appeared to have seen a _lot_ of sun. She tried to make eye contact with him, but his eyes were concealed under the brim of a hat.

"Who're you..." Charlie groaned, drowsily looking him over.

"I think I'll be the one that asks the questions, ay?" The man gestured to the gun pointed at her and waved it casually.

Gulping, she nodded grimly.

"Okay what do you want?" The question was met with a growl from the man before her.

"I thought we just agreed who'd be asking the questions." He snarled back at her roughly.

She nodded clumsily and tried to sit up casually to face him, but as she pushed down on the floor her arm _throbbed_ in protest. The pressure made it feel like it was on fire. So badly that she needed to collapse back on the floor.

"Oh my god ow ow..." Charlie whimpered like an injured puppy.

"That's a fractured forearm there girl. I'd give it some time. You won't be going very far like that," The man informed her and gently folded the arm across her front, before pulling her up to sit.

It was then Charlie realized her arm had been fully bandaged and slung.

 _Where am I?_ She thought and looked around her. It appeared to be some kind of tent, with orange light gently flowing through the gaps between the ground and the entrance behind the man before her.

"You help me, I'll fix it for ya. Now, you can start by telling me your name." The man eased his grip on the gun pointed at her and even lowered it slightly. Charlie was too busy looking at her arm worriedly to even see this.

"Hey don't look at it..." The man forcefully turned her chin away from her bloody bandaged arm.

"Now, your name."

"I'm Charlotte, Charlotte Black..." Charlie introduced herself, studying the man, who nodded slightly.

"But everyone calls me Charlie." It was there the man paused, and his head snapped up.

His eyes were open wide, almost in some kind of induced horror. He breathed heavily for a moment, before shaking his head and snapping out of it.

"What's wrong with 'Charlie'?" She inquired curiously.

"Nothing. Never mind." The old man growled and pulled his hat brim back over his eyes.

Charlie then recognized the hat, it was a brown felt slouch hat, with the iconic rising sun golden badge on the left hand side where the brim was folded up. He was Army. Well maybe used to be at least, the strap, and tan cloth wrapped around the headpiece had obviously been removed and on top of that the hat seemed damned old.

She interrupted the awkward silence between them.

"Can I go to a hospital, mate?" She requested, and to her dismay he just chuckled in reply.

"There ain't any hospitals out here, Charlotte. And by the way we're not quite through."

"Ugh why..." Charlie groaned, annoyed.

Then it hit her. Where was everyone else? Where was her brother? Where was Tristan? She suddenly became sick with worry. She hadn't seen them since before she'd woken up in that monster's shack. Had he shot them too?

"Shit...Hayden...Tristan..." She thought aloud, her eyes lighting up in fear as she did so.

"Uh huh...must be mates of yours?" The man looked her over.

"Fuck where are they?" She gasped at the stranger in front of her.

"I don't even know who they are Charlotte, and I thought I was the one ask-"

"Fuck fuck we have to call the cops! It's my brother and friend!" Charlie panicked and breathed heavily, despite it hurting her.

Suddenly, the old man burst out laughing. He leant back and shut his eyes tight, cackling at her comment

"HAH cops! HAHAHA!"

"Hey it's not funny! They could be dead or that Brit could have them or -" Charlie's laments were interrupted sharply as the man composed himself.

"What, and you think calling the cops will help or even _work?_ HAHA!" The man had to really restrain himself from bursting into laughter. "Fuck especially from Red..."

Charlie's frantic attempts to search her pocket for her phone were suddenly halted. "Wait, who?"

"Oh, the bloke that probably has the phone you're so desperately looking for. Which you don't have by the way, I searched you when I found you and you had nothing on ya."

"Who?" Charlie could feel the monster's voice begin to echo in her head again.

"Let me guess, you had a run in with a big pom?" The man folded his arms. "And he wasn't just a pom, but the one that's British to a stupid extent."

"Yes..." Charlie nodded.

"And he dressed strangely, right?"

"Yes! Oh my god he looked like he was out of some American war film, you know, with the red coat, that hat, and -" Charlie ranted on but was cut off.

"I know what he looks like." The old man said coldly, making Charlie look down a little. "I know who he is, and in case you're worried, nah I don't have any affiliation with him."

Charlie breathed out a slight sigh of relief. At least this guy wasn't one of them too, even though he was armed and looked quite intimidating despite his age. His thick Australian accent kind of indicated that to her from the start.

"You'll be safe here for the time being,"

"Safe? Mate get me a phone!" Charlie snapped at him abruptly.

"Who would ya call anyway? The cops?" The old man raised his voice, making her shrink down again a little.

"Why not..." Charlie murmured, a little uneasy.

"No point. There's no phone connections to the outside here, well available to us at least." Charlie felt her heart sink at this statement.

"So we're trapped here?" She asked the question that had started to worry her more and more.

"Not really, there's ways out. None of them particularly easy, though." The man informed her, sitting back himself now, leaning on a stool.

Charlie leant forward and looked into his eyes, sincerely.

"Can you help me...please..." She pleaded with him.

"I think I've helped you enough. By the way I lied before, your arm is fixed. Just stay off it for a bit and use some morphine and you'll be alright." The old man sighed and got to his feet.

"Please! I need to find my brother Hayden..." Charlie pleaded with him, tears welling in her eyes again.

"Wait, Hayden Black?" The man turned back around to face her momentarily.

"Yes?"

"As in the football player?"

"...yes?" Charlie tilted her head curiously.

"Huh. Well fuck, I s'pose I should probably help ya out then. I'm a Fremantle fan, you know."

Charlie sighed out in relief loudly.

"Can't let a player die before he's even played a league game..." The man continued, stroking his chin.

"Ugh don't say it like that!" Charlie snapped at him angrily.

"Why not? It's true. If I wasn't a Freo fan I wouldn't give a second fuck about you or your brother," Charlie felt herself shrink back down sorrowfully at the comment.

"Thanks...I guess." She mumbled quietly and looked down.

The man turned back towards the door again, and Charlie could now examine him fully. He was old, but still apparently very strong, with well defined muscle along his exposed arms. Attached to his hip was an intricate looking sheath, made from what looked like crocodile skin. Inside looked to be a huge knife, with the wood and brass handle protruding from the top, running along his old worn out brown sleeveless shirt and down his jeans.

"Just in case..." The old man detached the large sheath from his belt.

"Take this, technically this is a safe zone but still you should be careful. Also I don't trust you with a gun." He tossed her the brown leather sheath and it plodded down in her lap rather painfully. It was a lot heavier than what she expected it to be.

"Try not to lose it or fuck it up. It's worth a lot to me." The man instructed her and crouched through the entrance of the large canvas tent.

"Okay I won't..." Charlie agreed compliantly.

As he began to leave, she finally summed up the heart to ask him:

"What do I call you...?"

The old man gave a half chuckle and looked back over his shoulder as he left.

"Name's Michael Hunter. But you should call me Mick."

 **… _camped down by a billabong, under the shade of a coolabah tree!_**

* * *

 _New Handbook Entry:_

 _Name: Michael 'Mick' Hunter_

 _Gender: Male_

 _Height: 190cm_

 _Weight: 88kg_

 _Date of Birth: ?/?/1949_

 _Place of Birth: Melbourne, Australia_

 _Hair Color: Grey_

 _Very little known about Mick Hunter. Skill and techniques used in noted combat suggest previous military experience, but no records turn up. Apparently lived in the Kunarra region for a matter of decades. Grumpy old man with a bad attitude. Provoked with a bullet, tamed by a beer.  
_

* * *

 **So how was that? Return to form or nah? By the way just in case, lemme make an Australian slang Thesaurus: Pom = Someone English. Freo = Shortening of 'Fremantle' an Australian football team. Ya = You.**

 **Anyway hope you guys enjoyed, namely the villain's pieces and also I hope you can see the role the song is playing. Anyway if you have any questions or comments that you don't wanna put in a review feel free to PM me or Chu10.**

 **This has been JJZ-109, and as always...Have a nice day.**


	4. Welcome to Kunarra

**How's it going fellas, sorry I'm such a slow motherfucker, I've begun Uni and also have had a few personal issues as well (Everyone pls PM Chu10 and tell her that I love her) I won't be so long winded this time, just thanks for the positive feedback and I'd love if it continued. Keep the suggestions coming too.**

 **The Prime Writer: I can confirm some of your speculation, as well as deny some of it ;) won't tell you which though**

 **Commando64: Cheers for that, and same to you :) Not sure what you meant by similarity to games though**

 **Shadow Walker of Fire: Like a novel.**

 **Cheers: JJZ-109**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4. WELCOME TO KUNARRA**

With that, 'Mick' as he called himself turned back away from Charlie and exited the tent casually.

"Good luck from here," he said gruffly and disappeared on the other side of the canvas.

For some reason that statement seemed to spook Charlie more than the simple fact he, a man she had known for a matter of minutes, was leaving. She was in a hot tent, possibly in the middle of nowhere, in what seemed to be some kind of hellish entrapping hostile land…alone. And this man had been her only hope so far. He'd saved her once, and had agreed to help her find her brother. Not for a noble reason, but agreed nonetheless.

Now that he was leaving, Charlie felt the same sinking vulnerability she had felt in the presence of Rogers.

"Wait, wait!" she called out, to no response from him. His footsteps crunching in the gravel, slowly becoming quieter just continued.

"WAIT!" She couldn't take it anymore.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her head and arm, she groggily pulled herself to her feet and burst out of the tent, each footstep sending a shockwave of aches up into her skull. Mick was there alright, just casually stepping away through some trees.

Mick seemed to stop on the spot and exhale in annoyance.

"You can't leave me here, what am I supposed to do?" Charlie protested, making him turn around.

Shrugging, a sarcastic smirk swept across his mouth.

"I don't know, fantasize about one of those fuckin' boy band singers and pleasure yourself,"

"What the hell? I'm serious! You have to help me…" Charlie pleaded with him desperately.

Mick sighed again, and looked down. Charlie could tell he was deep in thought about something, although what that was exactly was just simply too difficult to read on an old man like him. The creases around his grey-blue eyes hid his mind's workings far too well for her.

Looking up, he stared her in the eyes and folded his sun-struck, yet still somehow muscular despite his age, arms.

"Look I can't just keep helping you like your baby sitter…you need to help yourself too. Come with me."

Charlie compliantly followed him, moving through the dry foliage onto what looked like a rusty coloured dusty road, quite wider than she'd expect out here.

"Tell me how to help myself…" Charlie insisted, murmuring after him as he walked.

Mick stopped again, rubbing his forehead in irritation. He removed the battered old Army slouch hat and slicked his grey hair back. Finally, he sighed yet again.

"Fine…I'll give ya a hand," He growled lowly and kept walking.

Charlie nearly felt herself smile, few things had gone right for her over the last 24 hours but Mick had finally broken the trend. Somewhere deep inside her, she felt something she hadn't felt since being knocked out hours ago. It was a glimmer of hope.

"I'll teach ya a few things, see how you go…ahh it oughta be a laugh though." Mick mumbled to himself.

Charlie felt deeply insulted and kind of hurt by his dismissive attitude towards her, but at this point she afraid to say anything that could remotely change his mind.

"Look, first thing's first." Mick circled around Charlie a little, not making eye contact but just looking ahead.

"Everything…in this territory is out there to kill ya. The animals…the conditions…the people." Mick lectured her loudly.

"Seems pretty much like it huh…" Charlie sighed, watching him.

"Don't interrupt me." Mick snapped, making her recoil. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

"What? Yes I have! These people are _insane!"_ Charlie blurted out.

"YOU have seen Red Rogers conduct part of his routine. Big fucking whoop. You don't know a tenth of what he's done, or what he's capable of." The first word came off as a roar, making Charlie flinch a little.

Calming himself a little, Mick turned and started walking down the road.

"The place you're in now is one of the few breaths of sanity Kunarra has left…Lone Pine town."

"Kunarra…" Charlie found herself looking ahead of him, and true to his word there was a town.

Right where the trees and bushes ended, old wooden and corrugated iron houses and small buildings began, lining either side of the red dusty road. Charlie had been so focused on Mick she had forgotten to take in her surroundings. The village ahead looked old and worn down, yet still somewhat alive despite the rust and heat waves rising from the road. Around her was the bushland, The Outback in the purest sense of the word. Rest dust and gravel beneath her shoes, and flanking either side of her was the thick brown and green foliage. Towering Jarrah trees with sun beating down through their leaves, little Balga trees with their short black stumps and grassy heads, and somewhere a Kookaburra cackling in the background. Crickets and insects chirping all around her, even though it was still daylight.

"Some shithole mining site this is…" Charlie grumbled to herself as she walked, kicking the dirt slightly.

"Mm? No this place hasn't been mined since the 80s."

"What?" Charlie looked at him, wide eyed.

"Kunarra is the one tiny speck on this overgrown excuse for a nation that the Australian government has let slip right under their nose. Guess you can't monitor and control that much desolate land, huh?"

Charlie could not believe what she was hearing. Did _her_ country, the first world, affluent, and almost certainly safe country she had been brought up to believe she was lucky to be in…have a place like this? She didn't know what to make of it yet, but she knew the danger and lawlessness of it already far exceeded anything she had dared to previously imagine about Australia.

"You were probably invited up North by Rio Tinto, right?" Mick continued.

"Right,"

"Yeah well they run the most remote, and by that I mean _stupid_ bus routes to their sites, I'll tell ya you're not the first load of people to be brought here. A company that size though just has the money to cover it up when they lose people like that."

Charlie started to feel her face flush more and more in despair, and she felt her stomach rise up inside her.

"W-what did I get myself into…" She whimpered to him.

"Yeah, a hell of a lot. I'll explain later darl'…actually have you heard of men named Vaas Montenegro or Hoyt Volker? On the news a couple years back?" Mick replied.

Charlie just shook her head in response.

"Well you got a lot to find out about, then. Anyway I said I'd explain later. For now, do you wanna have a chance of coping out here?"

"Y-yes…" Charlie nodded clumsily.

"Remember what I said about everything here wanting to kill you?"

"Yeah…?" Charlie raised her eyebrows slightly.

"What do you do when you know something…or _someone_ can kill you?" Mick circled around her slowly, like a coach.

"Avoid it?" Charlie guessed.

" _Fuck_ no." Mick condescendingly growled at her. "You leave it…it can always kill you later. The right thing to do is fuckin' kill it first, ay,"

The two of them had just about reached the edge of the dusty town, before Mick stopped them at the beginning of the main street running down the middle. Grabbing Charlie's wrist, he yanked her arm out and slapped some notes against her palm.

"And you can't do that without the right tools. Now…go buy yourself a firearm,"

Charlie's first instinct was to see what had been slapped into her hand, as it turns out; it was a $50 and a $20 AUD note. She hadn't even quite processed what she had been instructed to do yet.

"Wait what? A _gun?"_

"Yeah, a bloody gun. There's a gunsmith a few buildings down. You said you wanted my help, didn't you?"

Charlie didn't respond and just nodded sheepishly. In response, Mick just folded his tanned, muscular arms and raised his white eyebrow, waiting for her impatiently to move herself.

Gulping, she finally did, making her way down the wide dusty road dividing the two halves of the desolate town. She was going to buy a gun.

 _A gun._

An object she had never handled before, let alone ever thought she would handle. She'd hated them as a teen, seeing the incidents involving them in the United States on television and associating them with unnecessary, evil violence and dumb rednecks. And now she needed one to survive.

She knew nothing about them, how to work one or even how much they costed. She just looked down at the money given to her in her hands, and stared into the eyes of Prime Minister Curtin, almost glaring at her judgmentally for what she was going to buy.

 _I'm sorry, ok?_

She passed a bar, and some other brown, boarded up box of a building before finally reaching a store with the outline of a rifle painted onto a faded white sign hanging from the gutter.

 _Gunsmith and Ammo_

Oddly enough it was the best maintained building in the entire Outback village, probably due to the nature of the region Mick had described, it probably got plenty of good business. The windows were clean, and it's wooden structure seemed oddly devoid of decay unlike every other structure the town had within it.

As she opened the glass door, she almost felt herself gasp in relief.

 _Air conditioning._

The air around her had probably dropped from 115 degrees Farenheit (45 C) to about 75 (23 C). She nearly let out a moan as the cool air engulfed her body.

Finally opening her eyes after the brief moment of pleasure, she felt herself gulp again. There were guns of all types and sizes mounted on the walls. Not just hunting rifles or handguns, the only real weapons she had seen in Australia before, but assault rifles, rocket launchers, machine guns, among several other exotic and highly dangerous looking instruments of death.

One particular one caught her eye, a very large looking machine gun mounted on the wall behind the front desk. The tiny emblem on the side was unmistakeable. The Nazi Eagle and swastika.

 _Whoa…_

"That one's an MG-42. A beaut, ain't she?" Charlie just about jumped in fright as the shop keeper suddenly appeared next to her.

"My grandpa rescued it in WWII, Hitler's buzzsaw they used to call it," The shopkeeper told her, admiring it by her side. "Anyway, how can I help you today?"

Charlie felt his tone with her was far too casual given the merchandise he was selling. What did he think this was, a supermarket? She hadn't the gall to say that, of course.

"Umm…anything for seventy…" She mumbled a little, cringing at herself as the words escaped her lips.

"HAHA!" The shopkeeper chuckled loudly at her, before slowly turning her away from the MG-42 on the wall.

"If that's your price bracket I suggest you stop looking at that…anyway you're in luck, there's something I wanna get rid of. I'll give it to ya for 70 exactly." The shopkeeper moved behind his front desk, reaching into one of the draws under his register.

He pulled out an average looking, yet dusty handgun and placed it upon the countertop.

"Browning HP nine millimetre…that good enough for ya?" Charlie had no idea how to answer that question. She knew nothing about guns or their usage whatsoever.

"Umm…can it kill an animal?" She asked, cluelessly.

"It'll drop most things bar a croc…it'll do _most_ of Rogers' boys if that's what you're after." A cheeky grin swept across the shopkeeper's face and he winked at her.

Charlie felt sick all of a sudden. "I wouldn't kill anyone…"

"Pfft…you're not from around here are you?" He looked at her with a belittling disdain.

"No…Mick sent me and-"

"Wait, who?" The shopkeeper suddenly interrupted her.

"Mick…old guy, he looks like Crocodile Dundee." Charlie told him, and he started nodding very nervously and quickly.

"Ok look keep the seventy bucks…this one's on the house. As a matter of fact here…."

The shopkeeper reached under his desk and pulled out several full magazines of ammunition for the pistol she had just acquired.

"Here uhh…I'll even throw these in," He produced a brown leather holster for the gun, as well as a pair of M26 hand grenades.

"As long as you tell him how much of a nice guy I was to you, ok?" The shopkeeper grinned nervously at her.

"Okay?" Charlie gingerly took her the gun as well as the supplies, trying not to think about what she was carrying.

Initially she thought she could just carry everything but soon with how she felt her arm aching, she found herself needing to apply that holster to herself.

The feeling that struck her as she walked back outside was akin to walking into an operational oven. The air conditioning ceased to be, and Mother Nature started beating down upon her skin from above again. The air burned against her throat and lungs as she inhaled it, not too humid, and actually rather clean, but it was hot air nonetheless.

She started making her way back down the main, and only road of the dusty town. Despite her sore arm throbbing she felt the weight of the dreaded weapon on her hip far more. The pain of her arm, and the weight of the elegant but intimidating knife on her other hip seemed to not even be there when the gun was on her person. She could see Mick exactly where she left him at the end of the road, although this time he was sitting on a crate.

He seemed to just stare at her as she walked over, watching and examining with great intrigue. She wondered what she looked like to him. A blundering ditz? She decided she didn't want to know. All she knew was how she looked physically.

A slim figure of average height, wearing khaki coloured cargo pants and hiking boots, the two weapons clipped onto either of her hips, a dirty white tank top with dark brown blood smears on it, a bandaged right arm, a grimy and dirty face with contrasting and striking emerald green eyes, and brunette hair in a side tie.

She finally made it to him. As it turned out he was drinking a beer, while sitting on that crate. Charlie never had really been a beer fan, but she found herself licking her lips while looking at it. There was condensation dripping off the sides of the glass. It looked _cold._

She gestured to the Browning 9mm pistol on her hip.

"I got one…"

"Good on ya darl, let's teach ya how to shoot it." Groaning, Mick got up, cracking his back.

"Wait…how do I do that with a busted arm…" Charlie felt herself rubbing it again, but flinched in pain as soon as she touched it.

"Practise," Mick said bluntly and started walking into the bushland casually.

Charlie followed, but they hadn't gone very far in before she found herself in man-made clearing. It was a tiny target range, with a small clear space and some targets set up towards the back of that space.

The central target was a scarecrow, in a small red jacket and a pirate hat/tricorn made from old newspaper. The scarecrow had an angry face with sunglasses painted onto it.

"He isn't popular here is he…"

"Rogers? Course not. Anyway, go on…what're you waiting for?" Mick hurried her impatiently

"Huh? Oh right," She quickly pulled out the Browning pistol from her new holster and aimed it with her one good arm, the other aching too much to even move that high.

In a burst of adrenaline, she aimed the pistol in that general direction, and pulled on the trigger.

Nothing.

"Umm…it's not working…" She glanced at Mick, who had taken a seat on a log and was now smoking.

"Having a magazine in it usually helps…" He shrugged sarcastically.

Charlie felt her face flush out in embarrassment. "Right…I knew that, umm…how do I put it in?"

"Figure it out." Mick instructed her bluntly, taking another puff of his cigarette.

Charlie fumbled with the weapon, eventually figuring out how to insert the magazine into the bottom of the grip.

The slide clacked forward. _CLICK!_

Then her nerves came back, as the haunting new weight of the weapons in her hand felt like a power she wasn't ready to handle. In her hands she held life and death.

"Go on then…" Mick nodded down range.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Charlie pulled the trigger.

 _BANG!_

She nearly got knocked over in recoil, and the shot zipped into the trees above her. Birds started squawking loudly and several exotic looking parrots and others flew out in fright as leaves fell. Charlie nearly dropped the gun in fright, and her ears rang in her head.

It was so _loud._

"Use your left arm only," Mick advised from behind her.

"I can't it's not my writing arm…" Charlie protested.

"Are you writing?"

"No…" Charlie sighed and raised the handgun again, this time using only her left arm.

"Turn your body sideways, it absorbs the recoil better plus makes you a slimmer target for an enemy…" Mick gently turned her and shaped her posture as she aimed.

"Keep your arm strong and steady…don't close your eyes this time."

 _BANG!_

This time, as much as the shot rocked her to the core, she kept control of the weapon, and more importantly kept her eyes open.

Mick gently lowered her arm, and rubbed her back a little calmingly.

"That one's clean through the noggin. Well done."

Scarecrow Rogers had a smoking hole between his eyes. Charlie couldn't help but feel herself smile, it was only her second every shot with a gun.

"Now also…when the situation permits…" Mick grabbed her wrist, the arm that was holding the handgun.

He poked her finger through the trigger guard, and bringing her arm up, he suddenly jerked her wrist, so the gun was spinning on it like a wheel.

"Oh!" Charlie instinctively caught the grip.

"That might seem like a stupid Hollywood trick…but truth is it's way more than that. It's a display, a posture, like a lion's roar or a gorilla thumping his chest." Mick winked at her.

"Also it's got to be the most American stylized handling of a weapon in history, it shits Red Rogers when he sees things like that."

The images of that man…that _monster_ started flooding through Charlie's mind again.

"I'm not going near that psycho." She said firmly.

"You might not get a choice…" Mick warned her.

* * *

 **So how was that? If you have any questions don't hesitate to PM me or Chu10. In the meantime, don't forget to review, favorite, sub and all that good shit.**

 **This has been JJZ-109, and as always...have a nice day.**


End file.
